


A soft place to land

by elareine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Big Brother Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Family Feels, Gen, POV Multiple, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-19 17:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19977823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: "I think it’s about—you know. The other thing.”“It’s okay, you can say it,” Jason rolls his eyes—then freezes. “Wait. Are you saying that Alfred is asking you to convince Bruce to quit?”Jesus, that’s a tall order even for their resident Bruce-whisperer.(Five subtle interventions and one that really isn’t.)





	A soft place to land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RayByAnotherName](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayByAnotherName/gifts).



> Dear RayByAnotherName, I hope you like this!

One

Jason doesn’t understand why Dick is here. 

If it were anyone else, he would say: to get help; to involve the family in trying to care for their father so that he doesn’t have to carry the burden alone. But Dick—nah. He always worries and worries and doesn’t talk about it. 

“So let me get this straight,” he says. “Alfred is asking us for help.” 

“Sort of.” Dick looks tired. Jason suspects many people wouldn’t notice, but man, those under-eye circles weren’t quite that dark the last time they saw each three months ago. 

“How are you?” he asks abruptly.

“I’m fine.” Dick frowns. “Why are you asking?” 

“It’s called polite conversation. So. You were saying?” 

“He sent a message.” 

Jason takes the paper Dick is holding out to him. _Master Bruce needs to be stopped._ It doesn’t make any more sense now that he’s seeing it with his own eyes. “What does it mean? Did Alfred finally snap and turn into a serial killer?” 

Dick winces. “No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. I think it’s about—you know. The other thing.” 

“It’s okay, you can say it,” Jason rolls his eyes—then freezes. “Wait. Are you saying that Alfred is asking you to convince Bruce to _quit_?” 

Jesus, that’s a tall order even for their resident Bruce-whisperer. 

“He’s asking _us_ ,” Dick corrected, pointing at two symbols in the corner of the note. (And why exactly did Alfred choose to use that form of communication? Has Bruce’s paranoia finally infected him, too?)

Jason is pretty sure the red bat was added later, probably by Dick. Or referred to Timbers. But whatever. If Dick’s actually asking for help, he’s gonna get it. 

First, they need a plan. 

Two

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Duke tells them, “I’m just saying it’s not enough to get us to abort the mission.” 

Jason snorts. “Coward.”

Tim studies the screen. His brothers are unmasked and in one of Jason’s Gotham safehouses. 

“Do you even have a plan for what happens after?” Duke asks. 

“Sure. The main one being that Bruce has about seventeen contingency plans in the events of his death.” It seems Dick is letting Jason doing the talking for once, which speaks volumes, Tim thinks, about why he involved Jason in the first place. “I don’t see why one of these wouldn’t apply in retirement.” 

“I can take over again,” Dick offers evenly. “And it’s not like he needs to stop training you or being a detective.” 

“We’re just trying to fix the part where a fifty-year-old is hopping from roof to roof every night. Heck, half his villains are retired these days.” 

Bruce isn’t going to appreciate this. He will want to die in his boots, or something manly-heroic-stupid like that. 

Also, Tim doesn’t understand their urgency. Sure, Alfred called for help. Was that really enough of a tipping point for them to sit up and take notice?

Maybe he hasn’t been as alone in his worries as he thought. 

He’s tried to come up with a plan for months now. There isn’t a single scenario where suggesting retirement to Bruce doesn’t end in at least a huge argument. 

Still. If anyone can pull it off, it’s the two of them. Nightwing and Red Hood. The first two Robins. The ones that got away. The ones that came back. 

“Give us three days,” Tim says. 

Jason smiles at him. “Thanks, Timbers.” 

Three

On the one hand, this is really annoying. The thing with Bruce and her—it’s complicated, and not in the sense that kids like to use on facebook. She loves him. She’s reasonably sure he loves her. Neither of which means that she’s his carer. 

On the other…. 

“You’re trying to get Bruce to quit.” 

“He’s been doing this for a long time. Alfred is worried.” 

Selina narrows her eyes at them. 

“Not that we’re saying _you_ ’re old!” Jason seems to know he’s treading on incredibly thin ice. Smart boy. “Uh. But you know that Bruce…” 

“…overdoes it,” Dick finishes for him. “Always has.” 

“If nothing else, we thought you would appreciate a warning.” 

She does. 

Retirement hasn’t ever really factored into her considerations about her life with Bruce. She herself isn’t ready to give up her nightly activities, though she does have to admit that she’s been going out less and less over the years. Her kittens are grown. They’re taking care of things. 

So are Bruce’s, by the look of things. Looking at the two of them, it’s hard to remember the smartassed kids in way-too-short leotards. 

Maybe—just maybe—they have a point. 

“His back,” she says. 

They wait. 

“It’s worse than ever.” Selina doesn’t like to think about it. Seeing him in pain—the kind you couldn’t do anything against, the kind that ate away at you every day—hurt her in ways she still wasn’t ready to examine. Not yet. 

Dick’s shoulders slump. She thinks it’s in relief. “Thank you.” 

She’s still not sure why they came to her. It wasn’t for the heads-up. Dick might think of that; Jason wouldn’t. They didn’t ask her to help them with their little intervention. 

Maybe for information. If so, she has provided. 

A thought occurs to her, making her laugh. Maybe they wanted to make sure she won’t abandon Bruce once he stops being Batman like a cat does a toy that outlives its use. 

As if. Bruce has always been a thousand times more interesting than Batman. 

Four

as soon as they’re back in his apartment, Jason corners Dick. Literally. He turns around and moves closer until Dick’s back is pressed against the wall. It’s not threatening, just determined.

“Jason?” Dick is never going to admit this, but he’s still consternated that he has to tilt his head up to look Jason in the eye. 

“What was that, Dick?” Jason growls. 

“Using community resources and connections to prepare for the time of intervention?” Dick knows he’s using his police officer voice. He’s kind of beyond caring. 

“Nope, not working on me.” 

Of course it doesn’t. Dick knew that when he asked Jason to help him. Jason’s smarter than he acts, and he unerringly finds Dick’s weak spots. Dick just thought he could handle it. 

Jason isn’t letting him. “You were disappointed when she confirmed Bruce is injured and unfit to continue on like this.” 

Dick smiles weakly. “Just a bit guilty I didn’t say anything before, I guess.”

Jason is staring him down. 

“And it’s weird, right? Batman ending like that. I know I took over before when we thought he was dead but—” Dick knows he’s babbling. “—that was different, right? I’m older now than Bruce was when he took me in. Hell, I’m older than Bruce when he took _you_ in—” 

Jason hugs him. 

Dick’s hands lift up and wrap around him automatically—he knows the others make fun of his tactile nature sometimes, but he genuinely can’t help it—even as he stiffens and ask: “Jason? What—”

“You don’t wanna be Batman? Don’t be Batman, who cares. You’re Nightwing. There’s enough Bats out there. We could rotate for all I care. And Bruce won’t be gone this time. It’s not all on you anymore, Dick.” 

Dick slumps against him. It’s kind of amazing to be held like this, without any expectations, just warmth. 

God, he’s so tired. 

Jason never pulls away; he just holds him tight until Dick is almost asleep against him. 

Five

The phone has been ringing for way too long. Usually, Grayson picks up after an average of 3.6 seconds when he’s not on patrol. The time increases to 13,1 seconds if Grayson’s sleeping, but it’s only eleven, so he won’t be. 

Finally, someone picks up. 

“Hey, brat.” 

That’s not Grayson.

“What have you done with him?” Damian demands. 

“Chill. He’s sleeping and I’d like to keep it that way.” That explains why Todd is whispering. “Where’s the fire?” 

“Why is he sleeping when you’re around?” Of course, Grayson has always been too trusting. Damian considers it both a strength and a weakness. 

He views his family’s continued attachment to Todd in the same way. 

“I dunno, cause he’s tired? Look, is there an actual emergency? Do I have to go wake him up?” 

“No,” Damian says quickly. “It’s nothing. I’ll call him tomorrow.” 

There’s a pause, then the click of a door. When he speaks again, Jason’s voice is still low-pitched, but far more audible. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.” 

“Well, it is.” Damian doesn’t know why he doesn’t hang up. He’s counted on Grayson picking up. This was all wrong. 

“C’mon, you think I have room to judge you about anything?” To his surprise, Todd sounds sincere. 

“Just a stupid school project,” Damian finds himself telling him. “My teacher keeps telling me I don’t _get_ Shakespeare, and she’s right—why is Othello even listening to this man? What is the point? I’m supposed to deliver and analyze this monologue the day after tomorrow and—” 

_I’m afraid the others will laugh at me again_ , he doesn’t say. 

“Oh, great, prejudiced English teachers,” Jason groans. “Let me guess, lady that could be thirty or eighty? Likes to point out things ‘you could do better’ with a sweet voice in the most humiliating way possible?”

Damian blinks. “Yes.” 

“Jesus, I thought she had retired by now. Look, why don’t you come over tomorrow? Pretty sure I remember this stuff. Just focus on memorization for now.” 

Damian sniffs. “That’s not the problem.” 

“Of course it’s not. Just come over, yeah? I’d offer to do it now, but…” 

“…Grayson’s sleeping.” Damian thinks it over. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Todd sounds surprised. Damian doesn’t blame him. “Uh, okay. Okay, great.” 

They’re silent for a moment. Surprisingly, it’s not uncomfortable. 

“Will Grayson be okay?” Damian asks. 

“Yeah. Just tired. Thinks he needs to take care of everyone, like always.” Todd’s voice is soft. “He’s done a good job with all of us, huh?” 

He has. 

“If you think that includes you, Todd, you’re delusional.” 

Six

Nights like these, Bruce is willing to admit that he isn’t nearly as happy to be out on patrol alone as he occasionally pretends to be. Nothing to be done about it, of course—Tim and Duke are in China, Cassie in Singapore. Dick and Barbara are busy with their teams. Even Damian is occupied elsewhere. 

Having no one to talk to makes it harder to ignore the pain in his back. 

It’s a quiet night. The doors of Arkham stay closed. At about two a.m., Bruce finally admits that there’s nothing for him to do tonight and heads back. 

The Batcave is lit up. His alarms haven’t registered any visitors, so it’s likely Alfred waiting for Bruce with his customary admonishments about taking it slower at his age. He’s hoping there’s a glass of Whiskey to accompany the lecture when he enters the cave—and stops in surprise. People are waiting for him. Tim, Duke, Damian, Cassie, Barbara, Alfred, Steph…even Kate is here. 

Dick is heading them, as always. His oldest. The one who’s always willing to tell him when he’s wrong, to smack sense into him if necessary. Of course. Jason is standing next to him, his hand on Dick’s shoulder, looking determined. 

He can’t remember the last time they looked so much like a unit. A family. 

Bruce doesn’t smile, but he knows he will listen. 


End file.
